


there is a place for us out there

by abyssith



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Memories, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssith/pseuds/abyssith
Summary: He hears voices calling his name.





	there is a place for us out there

He always did have a high pain tolerance. Especially after he broke his leg. Burns never seemed to sting that much; cuts rarely fazed him. Perhaps it was simply because nothing could ever seem to measure up to the  _agony,_  the  _terror_ , the  _anguish_  he experienced when he forgot how to fly.

So he doesn’t immediately feel the blade enter his body. Not for a few seconds. It is more of an all-consuming emptiness, a deep black abyss yawning within him and encouraging him to fall in, that crashes over him in that moment. His mouth drops open on its own accord even though he isn’t really sure why. He’s vaguely aware of Tommy’s arms and hands surrounding his broken form and a firm chest pressing against his own. Everything has gone silent and bleak and still and Newt is more puzzled than anything.

Then he realizes what feels so wrong. There’s no more buzz in his head, no more screaming from the claws that fight back and forth for the reigns of control he tries to hold. That is when the pain starts.

It starts as a dull throb starting just below his ribs. That throb rapidly increases in severity until it is pounding with every beat of his heart, searing his skin with his own blood and shooting needles of torment through his veins. And  _now_  Newt wants to shriek. He wants to expel the pain building up inside of him in one bloodcurdling wail. Yet nothing comes out; nothing but thick, inky blobs of blood burst from between his lips. 

Newt coughs once, twice. It feels like there is acid eating its way into him–slowly, slowly so that he can feel every bite. A mist blurs his vision and he gasps for air because all at once he cannot breathe.

Tommy is pulling away and Newt, for the first time in the life he can remember, makes no move to tug him back. He is far too distracted, far too concerned with fending off this swiftly encroaching cold he feels invading his body. He feels tired, so tired, so in need of a nice long nap.

He sees Tommy’s lips move. It seems off in some way, as if time is passing more sluggishly than normal and Tommy is speaking in slow-motion. Newt watches in a daze, unable to hold onto a single coherent thought for more than a second. He certainly cannot respond, nor can he find the will to move.

This newfound lack of noise and signals and activity in his brain opens up the strangest of pathways in his mind’s eye. It’s like a wave of nostalgia surges through him because suddenly there are  _pictures,_   _images_  he is seeing all at once. They run so fast he figures there is no way he can possibly be addressing them, but somehow he does. He scans every single one, and with a jolt he realizes he  _knows_  them.

The pain fades away as seconds become hours. For a moment in time, Newt is no longer in his body. He is floating high above this burning world, reaching out as he feels the kiss of snow against his nose and outstretched fingers. The sound of laughter echoes all around him, filling him with a peace that makes him want to giggle along. A snowflake lands on his palm and he brings it close to his face, startled when he realizes he can see every individual point.

He hears voices calling his name. He turns in a slow circle, still laughing for a reason beyond his knowledge. It’s a  _girl’s_  voice, Newt comes to understand–and soon enough he can match it with a face. It’s a triangular face framed with feathery white-gold hair, lighter than his own. Friendly dark eyes peer into his own and the girl laughs before relaxing with an easy smile of affection. “Hey, brother,” she teases.

 _Lizzy,_  Newt remembers. And then the face is gone.

Snapshots of the life he has forgotten race by in flashes like these. They start from the very beginning until he begins to recognize the gray walls and twisted green ivy and rust-colored sand dunes that edge each memory. The pictures run faster and faster and faster until–

They stop.

Newt’s eyes fly open with a shuddering gasp and the world sharpens into focus all around him. He tastes blood in his mouth along with the smoke clinging to his tongue as he swallows hard. The pain is back, but Newt can hardly find it in himself to care.

Because he sees Tommy. 

_~~I remember you~~ _

He sees Tommy,  _sees_  him for the angel Newt always knew he was. He sees the orbs of mocha gazing back at him, laced with such raw horror and alarm that Newt is confused all over again. Until he slowly looks down, notices the handle jutting out from his body like an alien appendage. He notices the orange light glittering on the blood coating the bit of metal that did not slip beneath his skin. He notices his own knees beginning to wobble as they threaten to give.

A distant sense of shock rises in Newt’s lungs. He lifts his head, trying to concentrate on Tommy’s eyes. And then the strangest thing happens, because he feels something like overwhelming  _gratitude_  towards this boy. 

He needs to thank him. 

Newt opens his mouth, struggling to gather the breath he needs. But it’s hard to work around the knife piercing his abdomen and the fire in his chest. He gasps. “Tommy,” he begins, and that’s all he can get out.

His knees buckle and then it’s just cold, cold, cold. Somewhere, someone is screaming. Someone is crying. Someone is dying. And he suspects one of those people is him.

He hits the ground and he’s so scared because everything is darkening. However, he is not scared of breaking again–no, he scared of  _failing_  again. He’s scared of surviving this and when Newt senses Tommy crumpling to the ground beside him, he wishes he could touch Tommy’s face and whisper  _It’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about me anymore._

Someone is holding his hand.

Someone is smiling.

The fear drains out of him like the blood soiling his shirt, and his last breath comes easy. He is warm, now, no more cold. No more bitter chill. And he would like to think it is because Tommy is hugging him as his vision fades into black.

He hopes Tommy will wear his necklace in Paradise.

.

.

.

_Thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate._

_**Newt** _

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this on tumblr and said hey fuck it why not also die on here


End file.
